


Rolled Ice Cream

by Aithilin



Series: Festive Food Fluffs [9]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Ice Cream Dates, M/M, summer dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 20:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14818385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aithilin/pseuds/Aithilin
Summary: When Nyx suggested that they beat the afternoon heat with an ice cream in the park, he didn't expect Noctis to start leading him down the dark alleys and back streets of Insomnia on a treasure hunt.





	Rolled Ice Cream

“How the hell did you even hear about this place, little king?”

Insomnia itself was a vast city. Whole sections of the outlying districts were built upon the years of lost history; ancient towns and old settlements that would have once taken days to travel to from the Lucian heart of the the kingdom were buried deep beneath the centuries of progress that came afterwards. The city stretched across hills and plains, ravines and streams bridged with new concrete and glass where there was once just old wood and stone. The city had risen under the constant onslaught and centuries of animosity with neighbours, and cannibalised whole sections of itself to keep stable at Eos changed around it. 

Nyx knew that there were portions of the place that were less organic. The Citadel and the streets around it were groomed and cared for— the fountains and plazas open to the air in the way the districts never were. The polished stone of streets and monuments were shaded by carefully cultivated and curated trees— the history of the city cleaned and washed and presented as bloodless as possible, despite the plaques and commemorations telling those who stopped to examine them otherwise. 

Noctis had met Nyx at one of the plazas. Just outside of the Kingsglaive headquarters, where the station opened up to a space usually populated by a small army of food trucks and buskers. Where the tables were usually filled with hopeful recruits, and those who had been there long enough to know that the bruises would heal better with some of the steaming rice bowls from one of the vendors. There were the veterans, like Nyx, who rushed through the food— took the taste as a “welcome home”— and rushed away from the elegant building that housed the elite warriors. Those were the ones who would hurry back to the darkened streets and layers of forgotten depths, where more familiar sights and sounds filled the air, despite missing the sunlight. 

There were places that princes should never be seen. 

There were bars and clubs— the places buried deep like secrets beneath red, glaring lights, and guarded by men who could put the Shield to shame. There were arcades that stood as fronts to empty back stock rooms, ripped and peeling posters and darkened machines barely keeping up the illusions of the dealings happening just out of sight. Streets deep in some districts where people went to disappear, without ever leaving the safety of the Wall and the promise of the King’s protection; where the bold dreams of leaving the city behind in favour of a hunter’s life on the open road was borne of desperation and fear and the poverty swept aside by the local representatives. 

Nyx had no idea how Noctis even knew his way through some of these narrow alleys. 

It wasn’t a bad neighbourhood. Far from the worst. 

But the towering building blotted out the afternoon sun, and the piles of bags and bins directed foot traffic to certain areas, to certain walkways and bridges. It was a step below where Nyx lived; where the streets narrowed and the crowds that gathered in the open doors and at the windows were impatient for the night to start. Impatient for the darkness to hide their run into the deeper edges of the city. 

Nyx kept an arm around Noctis as the prince led him forward, apparently oblivious to the indifferent eyes that followed them as they walked. He was just waiting for one bold troublemaker to recognise who was intruding into the territory, to step forward while Noctis was distracted by his phone and directions, and try to earn himself some bragging rights that might carry weight here. He checked for exits and routes as they walked, the afternoon closing in on them as some blocks opened up to small courtyards or shop fronts. He waited for a telltale shout, a clumsy warning that would be followed by a clumsier attack, something that would prove the reputation of the streets. 

It didn’t help that the days had been sweltering hot lately. 

A heatwave had travelled the city, had slipped in past the barrier of ocean breezes and coastal weather and settled right over most of Insomnia for the past few days. It had carried from Leide and Cavaugh, encouraged by the sea of concrete that made up the metropolis, and had been driving people mad for just over two weeks. The beaches had been flooded with people seeking relief, the parks full of half-dressed citizens trying to simultaneously escape and enjoy the weather before the inevitable rains loosened the summer grip. 

The plaza outside the Kingsglaive headquarters had been filled with ice cream vendors. Gelato from Accordo had been displayed in glass covered cases. Shaved ice from the borders of Niflheim was topped with sylleblossom blues and floral flavours from Tenebrae— the delicate fruits that the sauces were made from strung up in display around the cart. The heavy, hard scoops of Cavaugh were thrown together in white tubs, simple letters printed in every dialect the vendor knew to suggest a flavour scrawled across the lids. And the Lucian cones and popsicles— carefully manufactured and wrapped, impersonal and simplistic— flew from the covered coolers on wheels, Lucian children drawn in by the chimes of bells and promise of an easy treat. 

Nyx will never forget the way Noctis lit up when he suggested getting an ice cream to beat back the heat. 

And so began their adventure further into the city. 

“Prompto told me about it.”

“How the hell does Prompto know about this place?”

A shrug was his only answer, and he tightened his hold on the wayward prince. The shade, at least, was cooler here than up in the open plazas. 

“You know,” Nyx started as Noctis paused at a streetlight, checking the map on his phone before picking another direction; “when I suggested ice cream, I meant from one of those millions of places we passed and a nice evening out in a park or something.”

“I know.”

“And when you said you knew a good place for Lucian ice cream, I figured you meant someplace actually near a park.”

“I know.”

Nyx was almost certain that they were being followed. That there was someone trailing behind them at a respectable distance, a dim shadow probably lured in by the glare of a fancy phone and overdressed mark like Noctis. “So where the hell are you taking me, kitten? Because this is getting really far from where I had plans to be.”

“You’ll see. I thought you liked surprises.”

“I hate surprises.”

“You like my surprises.”

“When those surprises are you, Noct. Usually in my apartment. Not down dark alleys in strange parts of town.”

“You worry too much.”

The alley started to open up towards a street— a commercial hub, where the rumble of trains could be felt just below the surface and where a bus stop was pack with commuters whining about the heat. But more and more people were holding strange desserts as they moved through the crowd of commuters. 

Some held cups and cones of what looked like sticks of crepe, topped with berries and sauces and cream, delicate plastic spoons scooping of sections shared between friends and children, or carefully guarded by adults. There were plastic tables out front some of the shop fronts, where people sat with evening coffees and teas, and containers of the same dessert constructed to look like other items of food and flavours. 

It took a moment for Nyx to realise that it was ice cream. Ice cream that had been spread thin and rolled up to look like a crepe or pastry. That had been decorated with bright colours and ornate cuttings of fruit. That had been set together in paper cups to mimic flower petals, or piled together and drizzled with sauce. 

Noctis turned abruptly on the street, and started to search for a specific store. A specific sign. Nyx thought he only needed to look for the crowd. 

There was a line outside of the shop, stretching from one door that advertised ready-made services and specials of Lucian ice cream. The sign above it was softly lit in the early evening light— a delicate blue, a mottled green, and the start gash of white lettering all above the canvas awning coloured in the same garish scheme. It was a Lucian shop, through and through, Nyx would recognise the efficiency and mechanical movements of the kingdom’s pride anywhere— as the servers and cashiers worked in a tight routine to speed through the rush that had piled onto their doorstep with some sense of forced order. But a second door that Noctis dragged him to bypassed the line and brought them to a quieter cafe sort of establishment still under the same sign and name. 

The tables were mostly empty, save for a few younger patrons sitting in pairs, huddled over a single cup or container. Most had eyes only for each other, and Nyx tried to keep his smile to himself. But he kept his hold on Noct tight, even as the prince sauntered up to an open counter manned by an older Lucian scraping a tray clean of the remnants of the last order. 

There were no flavours or selections available; a small sign faced outward to direct customers to speak up about allergies. 

“Two, please,” Noct said, finally stopping at his destination as the tension and excitement drained from him beneath Nyx’s arm. 

The man looked them over, and paused at Nyx. He offered a smile and a quick nod before he shooed them off to a table; “Of course, your highness.”

Compared to the sweltering heat of the early summer outside— the first jolt to the Lucian system, and reminder that seasons over the city were never uniform, or predictable— the shop-front was a paradise. The air circulated from the freezers, lifted and wafted through the small shop, reflected by polished stone and metal walls; the white of the paint on the brick walls, the cool blues and teals and pinks of the decorations and schemes were all an accent to the cold air that escaped the freezers and fridges and circulated through the air conditioning. They took a seat away from the windows, in the corner where they could watch the servers behind the counter work. 

The man worked fast. 

The berries went down first. Nyx could just catch a glimpse of them from his seat— the familiar bright colours of Galahdian tart berries had him intrigued, even as Noctis grinned at his curiosity. Steady hands spread the heavy creams, and the man took hold of his tools. Berries and cream was crushed together across the freezing plate of the workspace in a steady, rhythmic beat until it was a lump of colourful, frozen, something that smelled of summers back home. The deep reds of the berries stained the cream a pink, and Nyx could still smell the tart reminder of summer fields back home. 

Nyx stood to actually see what was going on when the man, still hunched over his workstation while his staff scurried around him and guests from the nearby line watched as they waited for their turn at the ready-made service. The concoction of cream was spread across the plate, layered until his tools came away clean and the quick, even swipes had layered the cream into _something_ that reminded Nyx of a plaster— a soft pink smear layered until the even coat looked like it had been set down that way. He could see, even from his distance, how the mixture started to harden despite the constant attention. It had started to look like actual ice cream. 

He smiled at Noctis’ grin, “This is weird, little star.”

“You’ll love it.”

He had missed when the sauce was spread across the mix. But the man had started to roll the ice cream in careful, smooth movements. Where it caught— frozen to the plate— quick, simple manoeuvres kept the pace going until the plate was scraped clean. Nyx thought he was done there, until the arrangement started. The paper cup was identical to any of the others walking out of the store now, but the man had started to settle the vertical rolls in the vague shape of a simple flower before he passed it off to the young woman standing nearby. The man muttered ‘Galahdian’ to her before he started on the next order for Noctis. 

Nyx had watched as the woman chose from an array of sauces and powders— drizzling a handful of identical sweets across the pink of the rolled ice cream, sprinkling a light powder that Nyx recognised from Libertus’ own kitchen across the mix in a pinch. It was topped with more berries and set aside as the second order arrived. 

Noctis’ cup was a mix of other colours; marbled blues and greens that had been pulled from premixed containers, arranged in a more haphazard way. As if the rolls had collided together into the cup rather than were handled with the same careful arrangement Nyx had seen with his own. 

When they were delivered to the small table and Noctis traded cash for the tray, Nyx stole Noctis’ to look at the strange colour of it. 

“What the hell?” There was rock candy in the complementary colours settled into the rolls, crushed crystals of it sprinkled across the top like stardust. The only think that hadn’t seemed like it fell from the sky was a sylleblossom petal that matched the blues of the treat almost perfectly. He could see the difference between the fresh fruit of his own serving and the artificial colours that had gone into Noctis’. He could see the texture of the seeds set into the cream with the mix, smell the familiar bite of tart and spice of boardwalk summer snacks from back home. But Noctis’ was all flash and colour in comparison. It was swirls of galaxy and candy— all the Lucian sweetness that could be thrown together. “Why does your look so fancy?”

“Because I’m fancy.”

“You’re the easiest date in the world.”

Noctis stole one of the berries from Nyx’s treat and grinned; “Shut up and eat your dessert, hero.”

Nyx used a stick of rock candy from Noctis’ desert to scoop a taste of the ice cream.


End file.
